


a thief in the night

by praetoring



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien-centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Villain, Gen, Moral Dilemmas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Thief Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/praetoring/pseuds/praetoring
Summary: It’s a problem and Adrien doesn’t want to admit it. He keeps telling himself over and over again that he can stop any time. It’s just his way of petty teenage rebellion. That’s all.Somewhere deep down, Adrien knows what this is, he knows what it’s called.He can’t say it.--- Thief!Chat Noir AU





	a thief in the night

_ "Let me out of this cage, 'fore I swell up with rage" _

It’s easy for him to swipe the wallet of an oblivious tourist. 

They’re always hanging around the Trocadéro, snapping the same banal picture as every other tourist to walk through Paris. No one notices when he brushes closer to the man than common decency dictates, but it’s a busy night out, and the tower is aglow with twinkling lights. People are far to enraptured to notice one lonely boy.

‘ _Don’t rush, don’t rush, don’t rush_ ,’ he mentally repeats. 

His heart is pounding in his chest as he walks away, the stolen wallet now secure in the pocket of his thin black sweater. He walks away at a leisurely pace, fighting of his flight urges. Running now would draw attention and that’s the last thing Adrien needs. To calm himself as his adrenaline wears off, he tells himself that there’s no reason for anyone to suspect him. Just breath. There’s no way anyone can hear the drumming of his heart.

Besides, who would believe that the son of the famous fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste, is little more than a petty thief.

He swerves around a group of older teens, all out enjoying the late summer air, and sidesteps a couple watching the tower lights. The sooner he flees the scene of the crime the better. 

‘ _Don't hunch, that looks suspicious. Don't look over your shoulder, that looks suspicious. You're just a teen out for a stroll_.’ With each step each thought runs through his head, helping him calm. He focuses on his breathing instead of those around him. 

Steady in. 

Steady out. 

The farther he gets away from the tourist trap, the easier thing become. His pounding heart calms with each street he turns down. The more distance between him and crowds, the better.

Giving in to the urge, he peeks over his shoulder and spies couples and groups of young adults enjoying the night, with the odd lone souls about. No police heading towards him. No one following him. He’s safe.

Adrien releases the shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he held. He can feel the guilt beginning to set in but he pushes it away for now, instead still relishing in his quiet rebellion. The knowledge of how disappointed his father or Nathalie would be if they ever found out keeps the adrenaline pumping through his system. 

And oh! How he relishes in the sensation. In a world so cut off and stifled, it’s the only way he can truly feel alive. 

With this thought, the lone petty thief ducks into a cafe, with the intent of going through his spoils. He orders a coffee and tucks himself away in a secluded corner (he’d need the energy after the adrenaline wears off). For security’s sake, he takes a cursory glance around the cafe, but the few other occupants are all focused on their own indulgence, none sparing him any attention. Good.

Feeling slightly more at ease, he pull the wallet from his pocket and looks it over. It’s made of a cheap, brown leather that’s showing signs of wear and tear; he already has three just like this stashed away at home. There are all the basic cards tucked away in the side pockets: an American ID, credit cards, business cards, even a card for a lawyer tucked away. 

Adrien also finds a $20 American bill, and about €30 between coins and bills. He pockets the $20, that’s a new find. It’s an oddity and utterly useless here, but it’s different so he wants it. After some debate, he pockets the Euro’s as well. Those he doesn't need, but what else is he to do with them? Throw them out? Well, he could donate the amount, but that comes with the risk of being identified. No better keep them. At least that's how he justifies it. 

There's also three pictures in the wallet, two school photos and a nuclear family picture. There's no picture of a wife, but there's a blank card with a number written in looping handwriting on it. 

He stuffs them all back in the wallet. That's someone else's family problems. Adrien already had enough of his own. 

He finishes his coffee, pays, and leaves. It’ll be a bit of a walk back and although Adrien is beginning to feel the aftereffects of his adrenaline high, he knows what’s waiting for him at home.

He’s not eager to meet it.

Despite that, the stroll back is pleasant. There is something about Paris at night that calls to Adrien, welcomes him, embraces him. The blackened sky and warm lights comfort him in a way he hasn’t felt since she left. Something that’s now missing from the hollow shell he calls a home. In the streets he is no longer Adrien Agreste, model and son of the famous designer. He is no one. Just how he likes it.

As he walks, he tosses the now empty wallet in the garbage. Perhaps someone will find it and return it. Perhaps no one will. It doesn’t matters to him anymore.

He’s feeling more relaxed as he goes, and maybe a bit sleepy. The coffee keeps him going despite the incoming adrenaline crash. He can feel it in the droop of his posture and shoulders; he’s used to the feeling now. 

Adrien comes up to an intersection when he spots the elderly man crouched in the middle of the crosswalk. There’s next to no traffic, but there are headlights in the distance and the man isn’t getting up out of the road. And that car looks like it isn’t slowing any time soon.

He looks to the silver car, then back at the man. Why isn’t he moving out of the way? Adrien hesitates for a beat, biting his bottom lip before he moves.

“Sir you have to move,” he insists, crouching at the old man’s side. Up close, Adrien can see he is relatively okay, resting on shaky hands. The two are lit up by the headlights now, ever coming closer.

Acting quick, Adrien wraps one arm around the man for support, and holds out his free hand for the elderly man to lean on. Wasting no time, Adrien all but drags him back onto the sidewalk.

“Thank you, young man,” the elder says, smiling softly up at Adrien. 

“D-don’t mention it.” His heart is pounding again, breathing quick from the stress of it all. He watches as the rather familiar car speeds on by. Only then does he notice the now broken cane lying in the middle of the street. The sight makes him wince, and feeling a bit guilty, he races over to pick up the two halves. “Sorry about your cane by the way.”

“Oh it is alright, I will manages,” the man allays him with a wave oh his hand. “You best get yourself home too, young man. It is getting late, and tomorrow's a new day.”

As Adrien waves him off, the same silver car screeches to a halt, startling the boy. Wide-eyed, Adrien momentarily panics before he sees just who is in the car, though the sight does nothing to calm him.

“Just where do you think you’ve been Adrien? We’ve been looking for you everywhere! You should know better than to wander alone by now.” Nathalie admonishes, a stern look marring her features. For his part, Adrien has the decency to look sheepish. He did sneak out after all.

“I just wanted some fresh air, the house is stuffy,” he mumbles, shoulder hunching.

“Well almost two hours outside is plenty of fresh air,” she states. “Next time, just open a window.” With that she faces forward and rolls the window up.

Adrien knows what’s expected of him. With a soft sigh, he gets in the back seat, gently closing the door. Well that’s one confrontation down. He stares out the window on the ride back, doing anything he can to avoid Nathalie’s disappointed glances back.

He can feel the guilt starting to gnaw at him. Not for sneaking out, but for stealing from the unsuspecting tourist. The man had kids with him, and he probably just ruined that family vacation. That thought weighs heavily on him. It crawls up his back, and sits heavy in his throat, threatening to constrict his airways. 

To settle his stomach, he takes a deep breath.

The rustling of clothes up front lets Adrien know that Nathalie has turned forwards again. She must assume his troubled state is from sneaking out, and having been caught. 

‘ _Well, let her_ ,’ he thinks, gripping the American bill. He’s using it as an anchor to steady his shaking hands. It’s proof that they can’t always control him.

All too soon the car rolls up to the empty mansion that Adrien calls home. As he steps out of the car, the barred gates slam shut, once again cutting him off from the outside world. It’s a noticeable shift, the comfortable night breeze suddenly feel cold, and the air too thin. Suddenly exhausted, Adrien wants nothing more than to get this over with. 

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, then slowly walks up the stairs. With each step, his feet feel like lead, yet Adrien makes his way inside.

The foyer is dark, save for the few spot lights along the back wall. It casts his father in an eerie glow. Gabriel Agreste has positioned himself in the middle of the main staircase, hands clasped behind his and shoulder straight back. With his stoney expression he make a daunting sight.

Adrien only looks for a moment before settling his gaze just to the side. He can’t look directly at his father, for fear the man will see through his very soul and discover everything. The $20 crinkles in his pocket and he prays his father doesn’t realize. 

“You left the house again without permission,” Gabriel states, voice hard as always. “Why?”

“I just wanted some fresh air.” He shifts in place, keenly away of three sets of eyes on him, daring him to give a better answer. He won’t.

“Fresh air. Really Adrien you have windows, use them.” As always his father is unimpressed with his answer, but he provides nothing more. The man sighs, and descends the stairs. Each clack of heel against the marble rings through the house and feels like a sharp stab.

Adrien doesn’t move, or look his way. He waits.

His father stops in front of him, appraising him. “You know the rules about leaving like that Adrien, and I’m disappointed that you continue to disregard them. This is why I can’t let you go to school. What if something had happened to you tonight? Do you want to end up kidnapped like the Bourgeois girl?”

“But Chloé was ok—”

“That’s not the point,” his father cuts off sharply. The man pauses a moment, before resting his hands on Adrien’s shoulders. Adrien is sure in another life, this would be comforting, but in this instance it feels like he’s trapped. “The point is you could have been captured, or hurt. Or worse.”

That sounds ominous; almost like a threat.

“Would you have me loose another family member so soon?” 

This time Adrien looks down out of guilt. No he wouldn’t want that. Just like he wouldn’t want to loose his father either. He doesn’t know what he would do if he lost both his parents. His grip on the $20 has relaxed.

“I’m sorry father.” It’s a week reply, but it’s all Adrien can manage. Yet it does the trick.

Gabriel drops his hands quickly, and gives him a blink-and-you’ll-miss nod. “You have lessons tomorrow,” is all he says before sharply turning away and striding into his office. The door shuts with a loud thunk, leaving the unspoken command of ‘Go to bed,’ hanging in the air.With a sign, Adrien intends to do just that, heading up the stairs.

“Good night, Adrien.” Oh, he had forgotten they were there too. Looking over his shoulder, Adrien gives Nathalie and the Gorilla a small smile, wishing them a good night as well. He quickly walks the rest of the way to his room.

It’s only after he hears the soft click of his door latching does he breath a sigh of relief. Adrien tosses his jacket on the bed and falls face first on his couch. With the window open, a warm breeze floats in and ruffles his hair. It’s all dark, save for the glow of the city outside. Despite that, he is warm, and for the first time since he left earlier that night, he’s at ease.

‘ _Stupid, should’ve known I’d be caught_ ,’ he mentally berates himself. He always is. Adrien isn’t sure how, but his father always knows when he leaves, and Nathalie and the Gorilla always find him.

“Kinda easy to notice when something you’ve locked up goes missing,” he huffs. He knows he shouldn’t sneak out; his father doesn’t like it, and he’s always caught. But he couldn’t help it. Just like all the other times. 

It’s like an itch he gets that he can’t scratch. No matter how often he tells himself he’s fine, the feeling persists. It starts out small, something at the back of his mind. He can ignore it for a while. Until he can’t. The more he ignores it, the more it grows. The more it grows, the more irritable he becomes. The worse his mood get, the greater the need to just get out. 

When he does finally give in, he takes off. Some nights Adrien is content to just wander Paris until he’s found and returned like a stray for his regular scolding. Some nights he steals as much as he can. Anything from pocket change to wallets, and if he wants to brave it, the odd phone. He once manage to grab a camera from a couple of university students, and an umbrella from a tourist group. Those he had to toss before being found.

It’s a problem and Adrien doesn’t want to admit it. He keeps telling himself over and over again that he can stop any time. It’s just his way of petty teenage rebellion. That’s all.

Somewhere deep down, Adrien knows what this is, he knows what it’s called. 

He can’t say it.

Instead, Adrien turns on his back and throws his arm over his eyes. He can’t bear to face his shame tonight.

A glint of light from the table catches his eye. Intrigued, he sits up, grabbing at the strange wooden box sitting in front of him. Odd, was that always there? He doesn’t remember receiving it. Or stealing it for that matter. It’s hexagonal in shape, with a red design on the lid.

Curious.

He’s not sure where it comes from, but he can feel a sense of anticipation. Something’s growing, something’s changing. And it excites him.

With that, Adrien Agreste opens the box.

**Author's Note:**

> wUPS here's my brain child that's been in the works for like the past half year because I'm that bad at gathering up my thoughts and putting them all together. this came about from my love of chat blanc, and what-ifs. more specifically what if adrien / chat noir was a villain? but adrien's too good of a guy to be evil. and chat blanc / evil-for-evil's-sake is just so passé now.
> 
> so that turned into how can he be bad but good? answer: thief adrien. for chat to be a baddie, adrien has to start out that way too. ergo, adrien has klemptomania. and not in a "uwu i steal for the lulz" but "this started out as a means of rebellion from my dad and to take control of something in my life but now I can't stop" addiction. and I wanna see that transfer over to chat noir.
> 
> I wanna write more for this, and I have a bit more planned out already. obviously it's canon divergence, as adrien doesn't go to school like in canon (this is about a week after the stoneheart incident) and he's only just met master fu. so obviously adrien's slightly different from in canon, a lot has changed already. 
> 
> I'm excited to see where I can go with this, this is gonna be my pet project. anyways let me know what you think of this first chapter~!


End file.
